Paternal Figures of I
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: One, who never expected to be a father at all. One, who never expected to take on the role of father so young. One, who isn't sure if he can be the best father his children deserve.


At thirty-eight, Remus Lupin had never truly considered the option of being a father; sure, he'd always liked the idea of _having _children, but there was always that terrifying possibility of passing on some of his more…_unfavourable _genetics to any future offspring.

And besides that, Remus just wasn't sure he would make the best father, werewolf or not. His own father had never exactly been any prize winners, and there was always the million and one ways that Remus might screw his children over for life.

James-because James was and had always been a naïve, optimistic fool, especially when it came to Remus-had always sworn that Remus would be a _great _father, and had nearly made Remus as Harry's official godfather.

It had been Remus himself who encouraged James and Lily to pick the more wildly minded Sirius, saying that, though he was irresponsible, he was certainly not a werewolf, and therefore not in danger of having Harry removed from his custody because the Ministry deemed him an unfit guardian in an unstable environment for raising a child.

Because Remus had looked it up before giving them his ultimate answer of "no, but thank you for thinking of me", and the odds of the Ministry taking Harry away from Remus, should he become the boy's legal guardian, were astronomically high.

_Unfairly high_, yes, but Remus understood that his _condition _came with a lot of arguably unfair stipulations that kept him from doing many of the things he had wanted to do.

And so, Remus had lived, mostly content, with the knowledge that raising a child was not in his future, especially not a child of his own flesh and blood.

The year of teaching at Hogwarts had been a nice, temporary, reprieve from the real world, and it had been almost like having a child to take care of.

Helping Harry, teaching him in class and instructing him how to face his fears, had disturbed something in Remus that he had been desperately shoved out of his mind years ago.

_This could have been my future_, he thought to himself as Harry walked out of his office one evening. _I could have been a father to this boy._

But things were never going to work out for Remus, were they? He simply just wasn't destined to have children, that much was obvious, and Remus wasn't one to complain, but that didn't stop him from dreaming of having a son to call his own.

In his dreams, it was always a son and sometimes there was another little boy or girl in the background, but they were always _normal _and _human_, and no one seemed to care that Remus was a werewolf; no one ever told him he would make for an awful parent because of his _condition_.

Life wasn't meant to be like it was in his dreams, though, unfortunately for Remus, who each year got a little bit older and a little more ragged and a little more desperate.

No, he knew he wasn't going to have children, but that didn't stop him from falling for Dora and her funny manner.

_In retrospect, _it might have been a bad idea to fall in love, but the heart, even one that belonged to a werewolf, did not care what anyone else thought.

Like a child around wet paint, he had not been able to resist the desire to have a proper life with a lovely bride and a beautiful child to call his own.

She was clever and pretty and didn't seem to mind the thirteen years between them or the fact that he was unemployed and a werewolf. Dora was in love with Remus and he was in love with her, and for a while, nothing else mattered.

And now…now that she was the mother of his child, the one thing Remus had never thought he would ever be able to be…_Merlin_.

Teddy was perfect in every way; a smooth-faced little thing with bright eyes that rested at a shade somewhere between the two shades of brown of his parents and a scruff of brown hair that was all Remus'.

Remus loved his baby boy very much and would stand over the newly born infant's crib for hours, watching him sleep, letting one hand rest on Teddy's hand while Dora laughed at him for being a sentimental old thing.

And best of all, Teddy wasn't cursed like Remus was; he wasn't _broken _like Remus was, destined to a life of quiet solitude and unwarranted attacks.

Teddy was _human _and _whole_, with his mother's ability to change his looks at will but with none of Remus' wolfish tendencies.

If Remus could have ever asked for a more perfect son, such a thing couldn't have possibly been given to him, because Teddy was perfect.

_Edward Remus Lupin, the boy they called Teddy_. How was it possible that something so precious and miraculous was half of him, even carrying his name?

How was it possible that Remus, who had spent thirty-eight years convinced that having a child was simply just not in his future, was now the proud father of _the _best little boy in the world, a more perfect son than Remus could have ever hoped for?

Because Remus would do anything for Teddy, his precious little boy, Remus knew that. He would do _anything _for Teddy, who, when asleep, would let his little fingers curl around Remus' finger; Teddy, who would cry when Remus put him down and quiet only when Remus picked him back up and wander around the room to rock the infant in his arms.

Remus knew the battle was dangerous, of course. He knew there was a possibility that neither he nor Dora would be coming back.

But he also knew that dying to defend his son was better than living and spending the rest of his days knowing he was too big of a coward to fight for that which he knew to be good.

And if Remus never got to see Teddy again, he would rather that Teddy knew his father was a hero; he'd rather his son be in good hands rather than be raised by a coward who was too afraid to go to war to defend those he loved.

_Good-bye, Teddy, my perfect son that I never thought I would get to have._

…

Harry laid on the floor next to his godson, watching the fan spin around and around; he had never expected to be responsible for another human being at seventeen years old, but now that he was twenty-three, he was glad that Remus had trusted him enough to raise his son.

Teddy, who was now five years old, seemed to enjoy hanging around with Harry all the time, begging his grandmother to let him spend entire weeks at the flat that Harry shared with his wife.

Harry didn't mind at all having Teddy over, because the little boy was always up for going on some sort of adventure, whether it be building a rocket ship together or playing hide and seek.

He was a lovely, inquisitive boy with a vast imagination that never seemed to run out, leaving Harry to always scramble for new games and ideas to share with Teddy, as he always wanted to see that bright smile on his godson's face.

One day, though, as he was picking Teddy up from a day at school, Harry noticed that Teddy seemed rather put out.

It had been Teddy's first year and, despite a few spats with his teacher, Harry had heard only great things about school as well as Teddy's fellow classmates. He couldn't understand the reason for the sad look on Teddy's face and wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as possible.

"Hey, little guy," Harry said as he helped Teddy jump down the final step of the school, waving good-bye to the woman who watched them leave. "You don't seem as happy as normal. Is something wrong? Was it Mrs. Mancheski again?"

Mrs. Mancheski was the teacher-from hell, Harry always mentally inserted after her name-who seemed to think that her word was law, and Teddy often found himself on the wrong end of one of her attempts to make him see the world how she wanted him to.

Harry didn't like her very much, nor did Teddy, but as of late, it had seemed like she was finally getting less obsessive about how Teddy lived his life, and had even begun to allow him to answer to Teddy, rather than Edward.

"This Sunday is Mother's Day, Harry. That's what Mrs. Mancheski says, anyway. She says that this Sunday is Mother's Day and so we all have to make our mothers a card. I told her that I couldn't do that, because _my _mummy isn't around anymore, but she told me to make a card anyway."

Teddy was wiping away tears that had sprung to his eyes, and Harry sighed; he, too, remembered days long ago when no amount of explanation would relieve him from making Mother's Day cards, stuck with the option of either filling them out for a dead woman or for a lady who wasn't even his mother, but rather his aunt, and whom certainly did not deserve a card.

"I _told _her. I _told _her that I couldn't make a card for Mummy, because Mummy isn't _here_, she's with Daddy and all the other angels, keeping people from falling off their brooms-"here, Harry took a quick look around to make sure none of the Muggle schoolchildren had heard Teddy, "but she said to write a card to Gran, then, or to Aunt Ginny."

"So what did you do? Did you make a card for Gran? Or for Aunt Ginny? Or even both? You know what you _should _have done, you _should _have made a card for me." Harry gave Teddy a small grin, and the five year old giggled at his godfather's silliness.

"You're not a mummy, though, Harry. I can't make a Mother's Day card for you, since you're not a mummy." Once again, his face grew long as he looked away, admitting with a sad voice that "I didn't make _anyone _a card. I told Mrs. Mancheski I didn't want to make a care for someone who isn't my mummy, so she made me sit in the bad kids' chair, the one for time outs. I _hate _that chair."

Teddy _had _sat in the "bad kids' chair" rather frequently this year, usually because he got into a disagreement with his teacher; Harry couldn't wait for the little boy to get a more decent and understanding educator next year.

"Well…" Harry trailed off, not really sure how to handle this situation; he'd never had a _proper _father figure in his life for very long, and the only man who _might _have filled that role, his uncle, had turned out to be a totally incompetent ass.

Teddy looked up at Harry with big eyes, cheeks streaked with tears, and the twenty-three year old suddenly realised how to handle the situation.

"How about you and I go home and make cards for all the mums we know? We could do one for gran and Grandma Molly, as well as yours and my mums. We could even do cards for Fleur and Audrey, since they're mums now, as well. Do you like the sound of _that_?"

"Mrs. Porter next door has kids, so she's a mum. Could we make _her _a card, too?" Teddy asked curiously and grinned brightly when Harry agreed. "We could make Mother's Day cards for _all _the mums in the neighbourhood, Harry! Come on, come on!"

He grabbed Harry's wrist, pulling the twenty-three year old towards the spot where they always hid to Apparate without getting caught by the Muggles; Teddy was already babbling about what he wanted to write on all the different cards, giggling about how happy they would be when they got their Mother's Day cards.

"I have sugar quills and chocolate frogs we can attach to every card at home," Harry told the little boy, who made a loud whooping noise and pulled Harry to move even faster.

His sudden good mood was infectious and Harry couldn't help but _also _grin, glad that he could encourage this little boy so much.

He had never imagined that helping to raise Teddy would come so easily, but becoming something like a second father to the little kid had been almost second _nature _to Harry, who enjoyed spending as much time as possible with his little godson.

_Hello, Teddy, the son I wasn't aware I was going to have the honour of raising. _

…

"What if I screw this up?" Teddy asked his wife of nine years, anxiously staring down at the two little girls, who were sleeping calmly in their cots, breath slowing as they rested. "What if…what if we mess everything up and something happens to the girls and it's all my fault and…"

"Teddy, you _need _to calm down. We've done this twice already with the boys and I don't know why you're so anxious now. You've been a fantastic father all this time, what's stopping you from being that great father now? Is it because they're daughters instead of sons? Is it because there is two of them at once? What's wrong?" Victoire gave her husband a sympathetic look.

"I…I dunno…I _know _we've done this with Remus and William, but looking at them…looking at our little _babies_…I'm always so worried that we're going to mess everything up and they won't grow up as well as they are supposed to, or as smart as they should be. I just…I don't want my inability to be a good parent to be the reason why they mess up later in life."

They had been trying for one last child, in the hopes of the little girl that Victoire so desperately wanted; it had been a blessing, hearing those two little heartbeats pumping and seeing those two different hands moving in the pictures, signs of life that made Teddy grin.

But now, now that the two little girls were _in front of him_, flesh and blood and under his responsibility, Teddy felt like he was floundering. What did he _really _even know about being a father?

"Teddy, calm down," Victoire said in a soothing voice, giving her husband a small hug and a pat on the cheek. "You're not going to mess anything up. Trust me, you are a bloody _amazing _father, and I know sometimes it's going to feel like everything we are doing is totally off and we won't have any clue about what to do, but you have to _believe _me that everything will work out. You are an _amazing _father, okay Teddy? Do you understand? An _amazing _father."

Teddy nodded and Victoire kissed him on the cheek, walking off to go tend to their six year old son, Remus, who had begun to cry out from nightmares, no doubt curled up under his blankets, waiting to be comforted by his mother.

Was it _possible _that Teddy wasn't about to totally mess all this up? Sure, he'd been more prepared on how to handle children after dealing with getting ready for and raising Remus and William, but even still, Teddy still worried that something would go wrong and it would be _all _his fault.

Teddy wished he could call up his godfather, Harry, who had been the closest thing Teddy had to a fatherly figure when he was growing up; Harry had practically raised Teddy, with the assistance of Teddy's grandmother, Andromeda, and Harry's wife, Ginny.

But Harry, who seemed to just know that Teddy was feeling anxious, had told Teddy to wait until the end of the first week before he started calling Harry for assistance, telling him that if he just waited until the end of the week, he would understand.

(It had only been four days.)

Teddy didn't know what to do, and he kept having reoccurring nightmares that he'd walk into the girls' room to find them missing or dead or hurt and he would have no idea how to handle the situation; it was then that he would walk to the telephone and nearly dial his godfather, or race to the Floo in the hopes that Harry would come over and help.

He didn't know what to do…he was going to screw everything up_, everything_. Teddy wasn't meant to be a father, he just _wasn't_.

Teddy would make an _awful _parent, he couldn't properly raise four children. Something was bound to happen, and it was going to be all his fault. He was going to ruin his children's lives forever, so that they would never be able to forgive him for all the mistakes he had ever made in his bumbling attempts at raising them to be good people.

Just then, one of the girls, Nymphadora, began crying and Teddy moved to pick her up, cradling the newly born infant in his arms.

"Accio," he murmured, summoning a bottle of formula to feed Nymphadora with, walking around with the precious little girl in his arms, letting her sucking soothe into a pattern as they wandered from one end of the room to the other.

It was like she had cast a spell on him, as they walked, and Teddy gladly fell headfirst into her trap, as Nymphadora's big eyes tugged at his heartstring.

He loved her, his amazing and beautiful little Nymphadora, with her shock of blonde hair and big brown eyes; he loved all his children and his wife, more than anything else in the world.

Teddy couldn't imagine living life without any of them anymore, and despite the fact that Nymphadora and Apolline were only four days old, he knew that they were going to grow up to be strong and courageous young women who would change the world.

He loved his whole family, from the newest additions to the family he had never even got to meet; he loved them all, and was very grateful for those fathers and fatherly figures who had helped to make Teddy the sort of person he was now.

Teddy began crooning to his little girl, aware that he wasn't that great of a singer, but his voice seemed to sooth Nymphadora all the same.

"I love you, baby girl," he whispered in her ear as they spun in slow circles around the twin's bedroom, Nymphadora resting her head on Teddy's chest as he held her tight. "I love you so much, baby girl. _I love you all_. I love you."

_What now, Teddy, who knew you were perfect for the role of a father?_


End file.
